An Angel Story
by Ashley A
Summary: What if Angel knew about the consequences of his curse and didn't tell Buffy? Hmmmm.....


Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters but I sure have fun writing about them!  Thanks to everyone who reviews and who reviewed my other (and first ever fanfic) story.

Backstory:

This takes place during BTVS second season before "Surprise."  My idea:  What if Angel knew about the consequences of his curse but didn't tell Buffy?

Thanks for reading!

  


Angel stares into her window.  It is a "dark and stormy night" as some hack writer would describe it.  Through the slowly rising wind he watches her toss and turn, trying to sleep.  Holding the ring he had given her.  He knows what he wants, what they so obviously want from each other.  He knows, he feels how wrong it is.  What the consequences are.  He can't tell her.  _Can't do to her what I did to the other…_He can't bring himself to do it.  When he first met her in that dark alley almost a year ago, he knew this one would be different.  Stronger, quicker, _quirkier _than any person he'd ever encountered.  She had kicked his butt to the pavement so fast he never saw it coming, and from that minute he had loved her.  _That's what makes this so hard_, he thought.  _Didn't think I'd feel it again.  This time, it's so much stronger.  So much more difficult.  This girl, that first meeting I'll never forget.  _

As though she could hear him thinking, Buffy turns toward the window and opens her eyes, meeting his gaze.

  


New York, 1985.

Angel wanders down the dark street, avoiding the eyes of anyone who happens to pass his way.  _No more rats.  I can't do rats again.  I can't do rats_ _again._  He passes a smartly dressed couple, who, when they see him, do a double take and walk quickly past with a clacking of heels.  He keeps his head down, hands tucked into the pockets of the duster he had found on a passed out Korvath demon asleep on the street near where he had recently been sleeping.  He hears sudden movement in a pile of discarded newspaper, sniffs the air.  Possum?  In the city?  What ever, he leaps for it.  Catches it, snaps its neck and drains it almost in one gulp.  Throws the body back underneath the paper where he found it.  _Well, at least it wasn't a rat. _  Back towards the street again, he continues his aimless walking.  What's a broody vampire with a soul to do on a beautiful New York spring night?  He passes the local homeless shelter, looks up just in time to crash right into a young woman carrying a load of tin trays, which make a spectacular crash as they both hit the ground.  He jumps up quickly, trying to make an escape, mumbling _sorry _and pushing past her.  She grabs his arm.

"Hey!  What's with the 'not watching where I'm going' stuff?"  She suddenly stops, gives him the once over, notices the dark, dirty hair, rumpled and ill fitting clothing, and most surprisingly, the dark, hurt eyes in his pale face.  "Uh, I'm sorry," he stammers, still trying to move past her.  "Wait.  Do you need help?  Food?  I'm Hannah, by the way."  She sticks out her hand.  He just stares at it, then gives a small bark of a laugh.  "No, no food."  One more time, tries to pass her.  She touches him on the shoulder.  Angel stops cold.  _Contact.  I had forgotten how warm humans are.  _He turns toward her.  "Please, you obviously at least need rest.  Let me get you some water.  A blanket?  Clothing?"  She pleads, completely lost in his eyes.  What is it with this one?  She thinks.  They had all become a blur to her, but this one stands out again like they all did in the beginning.  He hesitates, unsure of what to do.  _Maybe just a few minutes…I could use some conversation with another living (uh, no) being.  _ "Water would be great, Hannah, was it?"  He tries to remember how to smile.  "Yeah."  She smiles back at him.  "And you are?"  He sticks out his own hand, so rusty at this simple motion.  "Angel."

  


Six months later.

  


He's a nervous Nellie tonight, knowing what he has to tell her.

"Hannah, I know you're here.  Where are you?"  He whispers furtively into the darkness, trying to not disturb the almost freak show size squirrel chowing down on its stash of nuts near him at the base of the tree he stands under, almost at the dead center of Central Park.  A small, warm hand touches the back of his neck, and Angel does something he hasn't done in a long time- he jumps.  "My God, you actually startled me.  Wow."  "What," she says, laughing, hands on her hips, "vamps don't scare?"  "Well, it's really hard to sneak up on us, what with the sense of smell and hearing, and I'm really not that easy to surprise…what?"  She's laughing at him.  At him.  He smiles, big and bright, pleased that he has garnered this strong a reaction from this very serious girl.  He hadn't been sure what to make of her at first, _so careful, no contact, no friends, can't endanger them, especially not this one_, this one he has to come to care about much more than he would like to.  _ Have to tell her, can't let it go on like this.  It's gone on far too long already._  "You are so explanation guy.  I get it.  So, what's is this surprise you keep talking about?"  the petite redhead (for now) asks him.  He takes her hand, leads her to a bench nearby (away from the crazy squirrel).  They sit.  Silence ensues.  This makes him somewhat nervous; _she's usually talking a mile a minute by now, _this is not going to make what he has to tell her easier.  "Hannah," he begins, all joking forgotten, "I…well, hmm.  This is not easy for me."  She smiles softly at him, touches his face.  He closes his eyes briefly, _help me, I can't do this_.  She stops smiling at this reaction, begins to look worried.  "Angel, what?  You're actually starting to make me worry.  What is it?"  He suddenly leans in, kisses her hard.  She is startled, but leans into it, kissing him with as much fervor as she as able to put into it.  He slows his actions, trying to put as much of himself and all his feelings for her into his kiss, trying desperately to show her how he feels and how important this moment is to him.  He doesn't know if he can tell her what needs to be told.  She breaks away from him, somewhat breathless.  "Okay- that was…wow.  Unexpected, but wow.  Spill it, brown eyes.  What's the deal?"  He sighs, resolute now.  "I've been thinking about what's been happening here lately, what's been happening to me, to us.  There are some things you need to know.  About me.  About my past."  He looks up at her.  She's rapt.  "I know you think you know everything about me, what I've done, what I've been.  Because of the way I feel about you…how I…care about you, I've held something back.  Something important.  You know about my soul.  How it seems I'm the only one of my kind with one.  What I haven't told you…there are strings attached-" she breaks in.  "Stop, Angel.  Whatever it is, I don't care.  I know about the things you've done.  You'd be surprised at the things you can learn in New York if you just listen to the gossip.  You know I've had experiences with, well, unusual people.  There is nothing anyone can tell me, even you, about you that will make me change the way I feel about you.  How much you mean to me.  How you've made my eyes open to the world, how despite so much pain and suffering there can be great joy and love.  There's a lot of love here," she whispers this last part to him, taking his hand in her small one.  _No, no, no.  Not this.  Damnit!_ "No, don't.  Hannah, you don't get it.  You can't love me.  Don't even try.  Don't think that because I seem human or look human, I am.  I'm not even remotely close.  The price that comes with this soul is something you can't fathom."  _Is she crying? _"I've been trying to work up the courage to tell you now for days.  We can't do this; we can't keep up this…whatever it is.  I can't be responsible for hurting someone else again.  Not you especially.  Not when I've started to…" _damnit just say it _"love you myself.  You helped me when no one else would even look at me.  You touched me.  _So warm, her tiny hand.  _"You showed me that I could have a reason for being again.  I didn't have to haunt the streets like a will-o-the-wisp.  I could have a purpose.  I do.  But I realize that I can't do this to you.  I can't give you anything you deserve or want.  I can't…" She smacks him, hard, across the face.  He is stunned into silence.  She stares at him, crying, making no sound.  "I love you.  Wow.  That is such a difficult concept to grasp, I guess.  Surprise, Angel??  How can you have gotten me worked up for days, thinking that you were finally going to tell me how you feel?  Well, I guess you have.  I accepted you the way you are.  I don't care what kind of 'monster' you thought you were.  Hell, you were a monster.  But things have changed!  You aren't that man anymore!  You aren't.  You won't be ever again-" She stops at the look on his face.  He shakes his head.  "I can be.  Anytime, you name it; just tell me you love me again.  Make me believe it.  Touch my face, hold my hand, kiss me, love me.  You _can_ give me perfect happiness.  Do you understand what that means?  You want to see _me?_  See the monster I was, I am still inside?"  He grips her arms.  "Perfect happiness, Hannah.   I wanted so badly to stop this before it got too far, before we felt this way.  Well, I couldn't.  I can barely do it even now.  It's been so long for me, I knew I could handle it without this conversation.  Well, I've gone too far now.  I love you.  Oh my God, I love you.  And that means, for me, this is over.  It has to be.  I can't be that thing again.  I can't risk it.  And I'm sorry, so sorry that I let it get this far, that I took you with me.  It can't go on.  Not like this."  She just looks at him, lips trembling, squeezed together. She opens her mouth, trying hard not to sound like she's ready to blubber again.  "What, so how am I supposed to act around you?  Normal?  Ignore you?  What?  How can I do that?  How can I change my feelings?  How can I go on feeling what I feel for you, knowing you're able to turn the corner and breathe life into my world at any moment?"  She tries really hard not to cry, to not hit him, to not sink into a puddle at his feet.  She can't believe what she is hearing.  They brought each other back from the brink, when both of them were about to give up the ghost.  Meeting him that spring night, bumping into him literally gave her the reason to continue her work with the shelter, then gradually gave her the reason to feel again, to love someone like she hadn't in so long.  So what if he wasn't exactly the ideal man, hell, he wasn't a man at all, not really.  She didn't care.  She only knew that she had been hoping against hope that tonight would be the next step for them both, to show their true feelings.  She looks at him again.  He has gotten up, already distant in body as well as soul.  "I'm…leaving town for a while.  That way we won't run into each other again.  I'll leave as soon as I can."  She stands also, broken inside.  "Will I see you again?" she asks simply.  He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, arms hanging limply at his sides, all passion passed into a state of almost nothingness.  _I'm good at this feeling.  Had forgotten what it was like.  _"Then I guess that's it."  She turns from him, and slowly walks back towards the path they had left.  He lifts his hand in farewell, realizing how stupid the gesture is, but also realizing she isn't looking back.  Angel fades away into the surrounding night, so good at this part, so practiced he is sure he could fade away for real if he thought about it hard enough.

  


Sunnydale, Now.

  


"Angel."  Buffy stands, fumbling her hands through her hair, scrubbing her face into some semblance of alertness.  _I knew I felt him.  Oh, god, do I look like I feel?  _"Hi."  "Hey," he says back, taking her in, trying to banish the memory of that New York night so long ago, when he tried to tell a different girl what he couldn't tell this one.  _I'm sorry, Hannah.  I actually found someone I love more than I loved you.  I can't be without this one.  Can't tell her.  I can't leave her.   _"Can I come in?"  He asks, hoping partly she'll say no.  "Oh, Um, of course, just, um, letmechangeorcanIgetyousomething…." He is suddenly right next to her.  She can smell him.  Some strange combination of outdoors and just Angel.  She sighs, gives up.  They look at each other at the same moment, the same feeling, the same look of intense desire, passion, and compassion.  He touches her hair, gently pulling the strands slowly through his fingers.  She leans her head into his palm, looks up at him.  He can't stand it and cups her face, pulls her to him. Angel feels the memory of New York slowly dissipate as he kisses this girl, the one, his girl, his soul mate.  He won't tell her.  He just won't let it go the way he feels it going.  He can't.  He can't?  How can he not?  He needs her.  She needs him.  No one can understand them like they understand each other.  _Be careful, Angel.  This one is different._

The wind blows stronger as their kiss grows more passionate, echoing the actions of the vampire and the slayer.  _God help me; help her.  Maybe it will be different this time. _They sink to the bed as the storm finally breaks, lashing the house and killing the lights.  The lovers ignore it; the moment too far gone to hold back now. 


End file.
